The last time I thought there was a mouse in my kitchen, it turned out to be a false alarm. What I had originally thought were droppings on the counter turned out to be chocolate sprinkles that had fallen from my baking cabinet. This time, I was positive we had been invaded.
Let me stress that I am (in general) an animal lover. Over the years I’ve even kept mice as pets. But once they leave the protective “pet” status they earn by being kept in a hamster cage, they cross the line and end up squarely in the “vermin” category.
Not wanting to repeat the mistake of last time (where I tore apart my kitchen only to discover I was hunting baked good decorations instead of rodents) this time I wanted to make sure there really was a mouse.
The baited snap traps I had previously used were sabotaged by my dog, who had suddenly developed a strong affinity for peanut butter. Having young kids in the house, I didn’t want to use poison. That left the glue trap, which I had never used before but it appealed to me in that there was no bait to tempt my dog, and no chemical danger to my boys.
My husband peeled the protective film off the trap and we set it along the wall, in the corner of the kitchen where he was sure to run across it. My plan was flawless.
Or so I thought.
Around four o’clock in the morning I heard a terrible commotion coming from the kitchen. Something large was banging into cabinets and my dog was making this bizarre noise, something between a bark, growl and whine. My husband and I rushed into the kitchen.
Let me begin by describing my dog: Raina is a 100-pound American Bulldog. She’s big, she’s tough and she’s got those big bulldog jowls that hang on her jawline. She is not, however, brave. Especially not when she has a glue trap stuck to her face complete with — wait for it — a live mouse still attached to it.
I just froze in the doorway.
What do you even do with a situation like that? Raina, meanwhile, had now knocked over the trash can in her attempt to either eat the mouse, or get away from it (I’m still not sure which.)
What I had failed to consider was that although the trap may not have bait on it to attract my dog, once it caught a mouse, (which it did) the mouse itself would then become the bait to lure my not-so-bright canine into the predicament in which she now found herself in.
“Hold her!” Yelled my husband as he tried to peel the trap off her face, while at the same time avoiding the mouse who was so vainly struggling for freedom.
I wish I could tell you that the mouse had a happy ending, but let’s face it — that little guy was doomed from the moment he stepped on the glue pad.
When the trap finally came free, Raina was no worse for the ordeal excepting a patch of missing fur and some sticky residue on her muzzle that I can’t seem to get off no matter how hard I scrub. Hopefully she has learned her lesson when it comes to mouse traps, I know I have.
Next time, I’m getting a cat.
